


i was something they forgot to label fragile (now i’m stuck)

by starstrucksea



Series: take me home [1]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Pink has synesthesia, They’re composers/musicians, first fic, yay me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 00:40:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16295006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstrucksea/pseuds/starstrucksea
Summary: One winter’s day, Blue goes to visit Pink.This is my first published fic, so constructive criticism is encouraged. Thank you!





	i was something they forgot to label fragile (now i’m stuck)

**Author's Note:**

> REVISED STORY.

 

_Badum._

_Badum._

Her heartbeat was getting slower by the day, Blue noticed. A tempo that couldn’t quite keep up with the rest of the world. How fitting. It’s not like _she_ wanted to, anyway.  
  
She wanted to stay.  
  
That’s all she wanted. She wanted to stay here, forever, ‘til she couldn’t keep in time with the world’s beat, and her fingers, which, once upon a time, wove melodies that could make you travel through worlds of grief and joy in an instant, were silenced forever. Withered to the point where the appendages were blackened stumps, because what’s the point without _her_?  
  
Funny, she smiled, it seemed like they'd already started. Her hands were blue from the cold, (when had it started snowing?) the frozen blood from when she had broken a mirror in her grief strewn across her palms painting a portrait of pain and mourning. Of loss.  
  
Of Pink.  
  
She glanced up. Little flakes of snow fluttered like deadly butterflies in the harsh winds, the cold dragging knives across her cheeks. The blizzard had a melody, a song to it almost. “C minor, perhaps?” Blue found herself musing. “Oh, it would sound perfectly lovely if there was a piano. Hmm, I’ll have to ask-”  
  
“To ask…” Blue trailed off. “Pink.”  
  
In an instant, she fell to her knees, a devotee begging her god for mercy.   
  
Desperately, she scraped the blanket of snow off her baby’s grave, her final resting place. The force cracked her already-bleeding palms, but that didn’t matter.  
  
“Oh, my baby. My sweet, sweet, baby,” she choked out.  
  
“Why her?” Her voice, quiet at first, slowly burst into a crescendo of grief. Boiling hot rivers of tears streamed down her cold-flushed cheeks as she screamed.   
  
Eternities passed in hours, time pooling into seconds and years. She didn’t know how long she’d been here. She didn’t, no, couldn’t care.  
  
“Blue.” Like a wan echo, Blue heard someone calling her name. Was it Pink, maybe? Yes, that would be it. Perhaps she’d grown bored of her arpeggios. “Blue.” Oh dear, Yellow was not going to be happy about this. Wait.

“Yellow?” She turned around, her face still tear stained. She was expecting a reprimand. What she got instead was a warm, tight embrace. “Where were you, Blue?” Yellow clenched her fists into Blue’s windbreaker, her short blonde hair tickling the taller woman’s chin. Blue stayed limp.  
  
Slowly, she lifted Yellow’s chin up with her bleeding palms.  
  
“Pink.”  
  
The word came out in a single, painful breath.  
  
Yellow looked straight at her, Blue’s sea struck eyes staring into Yellow’s sunset golds. “I thought..” Yellow took a deep, heaving breath. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Deep breath. “I’m sorry.” (What for, they didn't quite know.) They both said. They chuckled lightly, if only for a moment.

Blue grabbed Yellow’s sweater the same way her wife was clinging to hers, the one Pink made her for Easter that one year, and wept.  
  
Time pooled again, only this time it made a moat. The flow of time seemed to circle around these two people.  
  
What a strange sight, you’d think if you passed by. Two world-renowned musicians and composers, clinging onto each other like they were lifelines. Two-thirds of a symphony, a half-way built machine.  
  
Finally, Yellow pulled away. “I brought these.” She pulled two instrument cases out of the snow, brushing the white powdery stuff off of them.

Blue felt a swell of anger rise in her chest. “You’re really going to have me practice for our recital here?” Her voice had gone dangerously soft, like the tide receding just before a tsunami hit. A warning.

Yellow recoiled. “What? No!” She paused. “I….I brought this here for her. For Pink.” The faintest tinge of sadness crept into her voice. Blue clapped her hands over her mouth. She nodded in understanding.

Yellow’s shoulders slumped in relief, a breath she didn’t know she had been holding seeping out of her slowly. Blue picked her violin up tenderly, then hissed in pained surprise. **My hands** **….** “Blue!” Yellow put a hand on Blue’s shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

“It’s fine, love.” She flashed an empty smile at Yellow. Yellow, cello in hand, reached out with the other, then seemed to think better of it. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“..Then let’s play.”

  
They play a swooping, light-hearted piece in honor of Pink. The notes seem to come to life, singing and dancing with a mind of their own. They sing of mourning, of peace, and of the young Diamond.

They sing of Pink’s music, the way the piano seemed to be a part of her when she played, her fingers flying across the keys with a fervor that could only be described as near madness. They sing of the way Pink said certain songs were blue, or orange, or yellow, and it wasn’t until she was ten that her parents figured out why.

But most importantly, they sing ‘goodbye’.

  
Half a pirouette later, Blue found herself next to Yellow, their instruments meeting in a pas de deux of sound and emotion, their eyes locked onto each other. Blue doesn’t need to ask to know what they’re both thinking.  
  
“This is for you, Pink.”  
  
After a few admittedly rusty (and painful) bars, Blue finished off with a long, sustained note, the echoes of the song lingering in the corners of the cemetery. The tears had stopped, at least for the meantime.

In the distance, Blue swore she heard the tinkling melodies of Pink’s piano.

  
“Jesus. How long were you out here?” Blue shrugged.

Yellow grabbed Blue’s hands, moving them closer to her face. Her jaw dropped just enough to reveal her shock and concern. “Come on, Blue. It’s freezing, and we have to get your hands treated.” She sighed exasperatedly. Once again, Yellow had settled into that stern façade that used to make Blue’s blood boil. Now, all she felt was numb.

  
She linked onto Yellow’s arm. After both of them cast a final, longing look at Pink, they left, trudging slowly through the snow.  
  
“Will you be here again tomorrow, Blue?”  
  
Blue thinks.  
  
“Yes. Until Pink comes home.”  
  
Yellow repeats. “Until Pink comes home.”  


**Author's Note:**

> Here's hoping someone got the reference in the title haha


End file.
